Odd and Curious Thoughts of the Week

This is a new series I thought would be fun. At random times, I will share odd and curious things that entered my mind over the course of the last week. They have no rhyme or reason to them, except to prove that I am actually, quite a bit, more-times-than-not, maybe-a-teeny-bit insane.

Today, I saw two grown men buy a cartload full of generic-brand grape soda. Who likes generic soda? They unloaded cases of the stuff into their expensive car and drove off, and I was left scratching my head. What in the heck are they doing with all of that? And why didn’t they buy it in a variety of flavors? I almost stopped them to ask them a series of questions. Are they just going to drink it? Are they making cheap vodka shots out of it? It’ll rot your teeth, you know. Then I realized I don’t know these people. Move on, you weirdo, staring at other people’s groceries.

I saw a fox on the way to my son’s school last week. Just crossing the street like it belonged there. I felt I stepped into Aesop’s fables. I expected there to be a bunch of grapes hanging on a tree somewhere and for the fox to learn a valuable lesson. Okay, I didn’t actually expect to see a bunch of grapes hanging on a tree. That would be weird. But then again, I didn’t expect to see grown men buying ten cases of generic soda.

I almost stepped on a scorpion last night. I screamed like a baby and made my husband go kill it. I couldn’t even wrap the dead little bugger up in paper towels and haul it to the trash because the stinger might still be active and pierce through the paper. Those little pinchers are evil. Do I really think scorpion poison can sear through paper and miraculously penetrate my skin causing extreme pain? Do all my rational thinking skills evaporate after 9 pm?

Friday night, I invited friends to dinner fifteen minutes before I asked for them to be there. As in – “hey – it’s 5:45 pm. Wanna meet up at 6?” Because other people certainly have no life and sit around waiting for me to call. Even if they didn’t have plans, they’d have to take the bat mobile to make it across town in fifteen minutes. Where are my manners? But how cool if it had worked out?

I made kale chips the other day. Tossed them in olive oil and baked them until they were hot and crispy. I sprinkled them with salt and crunched every last one down. My family made faces at me and said they were more than happy for me to eat up all that hot wrinkled lettuce. “You go on ahead,” my husband said. Whatever, people that I live with. Those suckers were tasty.

A friend recently informed me that store-bought pie crusts are full of lard, which I didn’t think I cared about but it turns out I do. I drove many miles to a store to buy whole-wheat, lard-free pie crusts, only to discover they cost five bucks each and I wouldn’t be home for hours. It was a waste to leave them in the car to thaw. So yes, I actually drove to a health store with every intention of buying pie crusts, and then changed my mind and left empty handed. I am now dreaming of quiche and I wasted thirty minutes of my life last Tuesday. I did manage to grab a free sample of hand lotion on my way out, so it wasn’t a total loss.

I asked my husband what type of bread he wanted me to bake tomorrow. Did he have a special request? What about sourdough? Did he have an affinity for honey? He gave me a strange look, akin to find a new hobby or maybe go out more.

I placed numerous items (I won’t mention how many) in an online shopping cart at the most amazing/funky clothing store on the universe. I wasn’t planning on actually buying them, because I am not cool enough and don’t have that much cash, but somehow adding them to my cart seemed entirely appropriate and not at all frivolous.

I was so desperate for something sweet the other night that I took a spoon and dug it into a jar of peanut butter. After I finished the spoon-o-peanuts, I was a bit embarrassed with myself. Have I really sunk to this?

Last, but not least, I received a response from an incredible literary agent in New York who said for me to be patient with him and that he promised to read my manuscript in the next few weeks. I looked back at the version I sent him and noticed a glaring spelling mistake in the first paragraph. I sent him and his assistant an apology email asking them to read the attached version with no spelling error. I then made another error in the email to the agent, which caused a third email that simply said “I swear I know how to read and write. Please believe me.” And yet they don’t have to. That’s the funny part.